


oh, all my nights taste like gold

by elizaham8957



Series: Tumblr prompts [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, aka I'M WRITING MORE MISSING SCENES JEFF DENIED US, also gratuitous star wars references, it's the roadtrip guys, post 6a but pre 6b, so the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 10:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: “Stiles,  there is no way this is going to fit.”“There is definitely a way this is going to fit, because it has to fit.”“You still have two more bags? Where did these—” Lydia trailed off, looking at the bag her boyfriend had just placed at her feet. “You’re kidding me, right?”“What?” he asked, his expression oh-so-innocent, eyes wide, and Lydia had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes again.“Do you seriously need to bring your model lightsabers?” she questioned, toeing the bag in front of her. Stiles looked aghast at the mere suggestion.“Do I—” he stopped, his mouth still hanging open. “Lydia, I cannot possibly go to college and not bring my lightsabers.”





	oh, all my nights taste like gold

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt for Tumblr! This one was "things you said while we were driving." I'm stilesssolo on tumblr and I'm still taking them if you'd like to submit one! 
> 
> Yes, the title is from the unofficial Stydia song Waking Up Slow. Good to know Gabrielle Aplin loves Stydia as much as we do. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Stiles,  there is no way this is going to fit.”

“There is definitely a way this is going to fit, because it _has_ to fit.”

“You still have _two more_ bags? Where did these—” Lydia trailed off, looking at the bag her boyfriend had just placed at her feet. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“What?” he asked, his expression oh-so-innocent, eyes wide, and Lydia had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes again.

“Do you seriously need to bring your model lightsabers?” she questioned, toeing the bag in front of her. Stiles looked aghast at the mere _suggestion._

“Do I—” he stopped, his mouth still hanging open. “Lydia, I cannot possibly go to college and not bring my _lightsabers.”_

“Stiles,” she said, and even the exasperation in her tone couldn’t hide the affection behind it, “these are _really nice, really expensive_ model lightsabers I got you for your birthday. Do you seriously want to bring them to school so someone can screw around with them and break them?”

He gave her a defeated look, picking up the bag begrudgingly. “Okay, I guess that is a good point.”

“This last bag still isn’t going to fit,” she informed him a minute later, when he had returned the lightsabers to his room. Stiles ignored this, wrapping his arms around her instead and resting his chin on her head.

“I mean, we _could_ just take the Jeep,” he suggested for what had to be the millionth time.

“Again, I know you have separation anxiety from your decrepit car, but we wouldn’t even make it out of the _state_ in the Jeep.”

“We made it to Mexico in the Jeep,” he responded.

Lydia untangled herself from his arms, turning to face him and giving him a very pointed look. “Are you forgetting when the Jeep broke down in the middle of the Mexican desert and we were almost killed by _Berserkers?”_

Stiles didn’t respond; instead, he picked up the last bag and shoved it into a much-too-small gap in the back, before slamming the trunk of her Toyota down. He looked her in the eye, his expression a strange mix of excitement and sorrow, before leaning down and pressing his lips to hers sweetly.

“You ready to go?” she asked softly, taking his hand. He nodded, surveying his house behind them one more time.

“Yeah. I already said goodbye to everyone. Dad had to go to work earlier.”

“Do you need to stop by Scott’s house one more time?”

Stiles shook his head. “No. We said goodbye this morning. I figured you wouldn’t want to be around for that.” He shrugged. “It was messy.”

Lydia laughed, tugging him towards the front of the car. “Okay. Then I guess we’re good.”

They climbed into the car, Stiles taking the passenger side, and Lydia backed out of the driveway, turning onto the familiar streets of Beacon Hills and heading for the highway. The morning was bright and sunny, the beginning-of-summer air balmy, and it felt almost unreal that a very short time ago, Ghost Riders had been erasing half the town from memory.

They sat in comfortable silence until Lydia reached the highway. It didn’t really dawn on her that they were leaving until she was accelerating on the road, the signs for Beacon Hills’ exit disappearing as they sped away from their town.

“It still hasn’t hit me that I’m leaving,” Stiles said. “I know you still have the whole summer here— maybe that’s why it hasn’t sunk in. But I’m actually going.”

“Yeah,” Lydia said. “It hasn’t really hit me either.”

“It feels weird,” Stiles admitted. “After everything we’ve gone through for this town… it feels weird to just get up and go.”

“Beacon Hills will be fine,” she assured him. “They still have Liam, and Mason, and Corey.”

“I know,” Stiles muttered, eyes trained on the road in front of them. “But I still feel this sense of… I don’t know, responsibility, or something. I feel like they still need us.”

“I know,” she agreed. “We’ve given a lot to this town.”

“I guess it’s fair we get a break now,” he admitted. “Try to lead semi-normal lives, if that’s possible. But I still feel…”

“I do too,” Lydia told him, taking her eyes off the road. “I can’t _wait_ to go to Boston, and yet… I’m always going to worry about Beacon Hills, I think.”

Stiles nodded, and Lydia subconsciously reached across the center console, taking his hand. She didn’t need to say anything; they both let the silence envelope them, just holding onto each other. Stiles squeezed her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, running his thumb over the back of her hand in that way that sent shivers through her body.

The next two hours passed uneventfully— they bickered over music as the California landscape passed them by, discussed the Skype schedule Lydia had come up with for the next few months, before she went to Boston and they had to come up with a _visiting_ schedule too— but mostly they just _drove,_ a comfortable ease filling the car and washing over them. It was so _easy_ to be with Stiles, Lydia mused, watching him as he beat out the drumline of the current song on his lap too enthusiastically. He glanced over at her, catching her looking at him, and his grin was so wide, his eyes practically golden in the morning sunshine, and her breath caught at the overwhelming emotion in his gaze.

“What?” Stiles asked, eyes soft, smile even softer.

 _“Nothing,”_ she meant to say, but instead, tumbling out before she could stop it, came: “I love you.”

It shouldn’t have been a big deal: Lydia had told him before, after he had been taken from her before she got the chance. Stiles said it more often, but still, Lydia loved to tell him she loved him; she loved seeing that warmth in his eyes, the fondness in his expression when she told him how she felt about him. Every time she told him she loved him, all she could think of was the expression on his face when she had first told him, the night they had gotten him back from the Wild Hunt. She had whispered it into his skin, the two of them curled up in his bed with nothing in between them, limbs tangled together and hearts beating in sync, and the look on Stiles’s face at her simple declaration made her heart want to burst, his eyes overflowing with affection and admiration and _love,_ so much love.

He looked at her so similarly now, his amber eyes shining, flecks of gold illuminated by the soft sunlight, and Lydia’s breath caught at the sheer adoration in his expression.

“I love _you,”_ he responded, and she couldn’t help looking away from the road briefly, meeting his eyes.

Before she could even think, she arched an eyebrow at him, smirking when she replied: “I know.”

Stiles’s expression immediately changed; he sagged in his seat, squeezing his eyes closed and determinedly trying not to look at the triumphant expression on her face.

“Jesus Christ— you can’t just _do_ that, Lydia, we’re in a frickin’ car!” He sighed, shaking his head at her. “We are hours away from the hotel, okay. You know what it does to me when you quote Star Wars.”

Lydia smirked, hardly apologetic. “So then I shouldn’t call you a scruffy-looking nerfherder?”

Stiles let out an indignant, strangled gasp, his cheeks bright red, and Lydia couldn’t hold in her laughter any longer.

“Are you _trying_ to destroy me?” he asked, regarding her with wide eyes. She smirked prettily at him, nodding her head. She was about to respond, but her eye caught the sign in front of them on the road, and she froze, Stiles also going still next to her.

_You are now leaving California. Come back soon!_

“We’re really going,” Stiles said, breaking the silence as they crossed the state border. “We’re really leaving them behind.”

“Yeah,” Lydia said, and she could _feel_ Beacon Hills calling back to her, a tugging sensation keeping her tied to the town they had fought for and sacrificed so much to keep safe. But the pull of her bond to the boy sitting next to her was stronger than the draw back to Beacon Hills. And she knew, as much as the town tried to call her back, her connection with Stiles would always pull her back to him and keep her safe.

“It’s okay,” she reassured Stiles, and her comforting words were as much for herself as they were for him. “They’re going to be alright.”


End file.
